Between You and I
by every-holmes-for-every-watson
Summary: "Take my pain away, just tear it out. It stings, and I feel it coursing in my veins. I can't deal with it. I have to say goodbye to the only man, the only person I've ever loved and cared for my entire life. It's shame it had to be this way, and it's not enough to say I'm sorry." Johnlock, Angst, Character Depression.
1. Chapter 1

It hurt.

Dear god, it _burned. _I came back, after three awful years, and I wanted to tell you how empty I felt. How empty and sad I was. It wasn't the same without you. While I was destroying Moriaty's web, on some days, I woke up on a disgusting bed, then walking down the stairs with the smell of your brilliant tea running into my nostrils. The memories were what made me keep moving.

I don't know what I'm going to do without you.

Needless to say, when I came back to find you in that restaurant, I expected you to yell, shout, even to punch me in the face. But when you looked me in my eyes, and I saw how broken you were, I felt my insides melting away. I felt pain and sorrow, and all I wanted to do was apologize, and wrap you up in my arms. I wanted to make you okay. After our reunion (which left me with an almost broken nose, thank you) things were steadily becoming okay again. I felt warm when you were next to me, and we were always with each other. Perhaps because we thought that we would wake up, and all of it would've been a dream.

Then I met her.

Mary. Mary Morstan. You really couldn't have found someone with a better _name? _Honestly, John, I'm disappointed in you. You told me how you met her at a cafe shop, a year after my 'death'. You also told me how when you saw her, a part of you started to build itself up again. She was your savior, you said. She saved you, and stuck by your side when I was gone for those next two years. Would you like to know something? I wanted to be the person to save you. I know I hurt you, but I wanted fix you back up. You stuck by me when I would do unspeakable experiments in the kitchen, and shoot bullets into Mrs. Hudson's walls. When I wouldn't eat, you would make me toast, and force me to eat it. You watched over me, you always made sure I was okay.

What happens now?

What will I do on cases when I don't have you by my side? What do I do when I go home, our home, and you're not there anymore? I depend on you, John. By all means, I live off of you. I don't want you to leave. What I want is for you to realize how much better I could be for you, how much potential we could have, and to come back to Baker Street. Come back to my arms.

I sound so _pathetic_.

This is what you've done to me. I don't like to feel. The word makes my stomach feel so uneasy. You've changed me. You made me so human, John. Why do we need to throw all of what we had, away? I don't want to fall back to the old Sherlock I used to be. The Sherlock that Lestrade first found me to be. You made me better, you made me whole.

I am envious of Mary. I am envious that she will be able to see you wake up in the morning, and see your chest slowly rise and fall as you sleep. I'm envious of the fact that she gets to run her fingers through your short, stubby blonde hair. I'm envious that she gets to hear your laugh, and see your smile early in the morning, and late at night. I'm envious that she gets to place her lips against yours, envious that she gets to know your scent, to become your scent, when I'm here to fend for myself. I'm envious that she gets to walk down that aisle, pledging to spend the rest of her life with you. I'm envious that she gets to know you, to enjoy you, while I am brokenhearted.

_I am envious that she gets to love you, while I must hold my confession at the tip of my tongue._

I love you so much, it hurts. It takes the breath out of me, and my vision becomes blurry, and...and...dammit. I want this feeling to go away, John. It's killing me. Please, please make it go away.

You invited me to your wedding, even asked me to be your best man. I couldn't refuse. You told me I was your best friend, and you cared for me. Somehow, those words carved into my rib cage, and I had to take all of what was in me to not break down in front of you. Would it mean anything if I said I'm sorry? Would time reverse, and I would have you? Could someone, something, save me from this hell I'm going through? Jesus, I don't know how I will be able to go though watching you getting married to her. Perhaps it was silly of me to think that I could have you in the first place. I'm Sherlock Holmes. The freak. It's amazing how you even stuck with me as far as you have. I have to make a toast for your wedding, it's one of the big roles of the best man, but I'm not going to say what I'm writing now, so don't worry. Not like you will ever even acknowledge me writing this in the first place. I'll make sure of that. But, to be honest, John, I'm _scared._ I don't know what to do. I don't know how to pull through, and I'm simply stuck. You move on, start a family, and I'll be here. Suffering. Maybe I'll turn back to the dru-

_ No._

I need to stay away. I can't push you anymore than I already have. Three years of pushing you away. Take my pain away, just tear it out. It stings, and I feel it coursing through my veins. I can't deal with it. I have to say goodbye to the only man, the only person I've ever loved and cared for in my entire life. It's shame it had to be this way, and it's not enough to say I'm sorry. It's not enough to say I love you, and that I always will until the day I breathe my last breath. It won't be enough to tell you that I will always hate myself for not letting you know how I felt in the past, how I will always hate myself for the opportunities passing by me, so close that I could grasp it. It will never be enough to tell you that I will miss you so much, that I will find no purpose in living because you made life bearable. All I can do, all that I cando that will be enough is to say goodbye. I'm going to miss you, John Hamish Watson. I'll miss you for every second of my life. You will always be the first person I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I will think about when I go to sleep. No one will ever take your place, and I doubt I will ever find another person like you. There will never be another John Watson. All there will ever, ever be, is you. My Doctor. _My best friend_.

Goodbye,

Sherlock Holmes.

_**Please review, that would make me very happy! I'll post the second chapter soon, stay tuned!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**John's POV **

It was three years.

Sherlock just doesn't understand, you know? When I saw him jump off, a part of me died. I checked for his pulse for Christ's sake! I didn't feel anything. All I saw was his lifeless (or what I thought lifeless) body in front of me, and I couldn't say anything. All of my words died in my throat. I wanted to scream, shout, pull him up from the ground and ask him why in the _hell _he would do this to me. Jesus, it hurt so bad. It still does, just talking about it. I had to go back to Baker Street and suffer. I would sit in my chair, and his chair, his empty chair, would taunt me without Sherlock in it. He will never understand what I went through. What I am going through.

Sherlock came back right when I was finally starting to heal myself again.

It was at this nice restaurant, very posh, and I was drinking my favorite glass of champane. Mary Morstan was sitting across from me. I remember we were talking about my job as a Doctor, and when the doors to the restaurant opened, something changed in the air. I felt it. Still, I kept my focus on Mary, smiling how wonderful she is when she talks about something she's passionate about.

She still wasn't Sherlock.

Mary was talking about her new job as a teacher, when she turned her head and stopped mid sentence.

_"Mary," I asked her, "what's wrong?" _

_"Oh my god..." she whispered, her eyes blank. _

_"What-"_

_"John." a deep voice, said._

It's funny, I still feel that painful shiver that ran down my spine.

_"No," I said, completely shocked, "how...?" _

_"I did what you asked me to do. I'm not dead. I'm here." Sherlock's voice broke, and I still see him trying to fix his posture, and clearing his throat. _

_"I don't understand-"_

_"And who's this?" he asked. "Janet, Melissa, or-"_

_"Mary." she smiled, standing up and shaking his hand. "I'm John's girlfriend. Very nice to meet you, I've heard so much about your adventures with my John." _

_"Good to know John's been talk-" _

I punched that bastard in the face. I could feel the anger running through my blood, and was clouding my vision. I yelled at him, yelled things I can't even remember, and stormed out the restaurant. Perhaps I should feel guilty that I left Mary there with him, but I couldn't even think at that moment. All I did was go back to Baker Street, (I was even getting ready to move in with Mary) and cry like a damn idiot. How could've I been fooled? Oh, yes, he's Sherlock Holmes. He could do anything that arrogant bastard wanted to do.

Do you know what angers me the most? I'm engaged to Mary, and when I saw Sherlock again that night, all I could think about was his cheekbones and how much skinnier he got. His clothes were brand new, probably had Mycroft get them for him, and I could tell that he had body damage from the way he was walking. Probably from one of Moriarty's men attacking him. He always would get himself hurt.

Sherlock basically took over my way of thinking.

Ever since then, all I could think, see, and hear was him. It felt like he was just going through my head, discovering everything I thought about him. All I wanted was for him to leave me alone for a while. Mary told me that they had a little talk, and that he was a nice fellow. She wouldn't say the same thing if she saw him before he jumped. He was just trying to be nice to her, so he could win me over. Needless to say, after a few days, Sherlock and I talked, and everything turned to "normal." Our normal. We were with each other all the time. I was afraid he would disappear at any moment, I was glued right next to him.

I'm getting married.

I love Mary, I do. She fixed me up when I was so broken, and numb. She accepted me for who I am, and I can't even ask for more than that. I just needed a best man. Greg is a great friend of mine, but he wasn't close enough for me to give that role to him. Mike, he's a pal, but I can't even talk to him about anything. He gets boring (I feel like Sherlock is getting to me). Anderson...don't get me started. Mary made me invite him. Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock bloody Holmes. Sherlock I-have-beautiful-cheekbones Holmes. I think you get my point. He was the top choice all along, I knew so. He's my best friend, and always will be. When I asked him, I was surprised to hear him accept it. I expected him to decline and say that marriages "aren't his area." It's just...I thought I saw a range of expressions hit his face when I asked him. It went from shocked, to hurt, and even to sadness. I chose not to comment on it, I thought I imagined it. He has to give a speech, and let's just say that I'm even more nervous than that than the vows I have to say to Mary.

There's so many things I feel for Sherlock. I am a straight man, always have been, but I guess you can say I'm Sherlocksexual. It's because of his stupid cheekbones, the way his damn jacket fits his figure, and that should be illegal purple shirt he wears that looks like it's about to be ripped off. I wanted to devour every piece of him. Taste him. Want him.

_Need him. _

When I told Sherlock I was getting married, he just gave me a simple nod. Even a muttered "congrats." He later claimed that he "deduced it already," but I don't believe that for one second. Do you know what I wanted Sherlock to do when I told him about my engagement? I wanted him to fight for me. I wanted him to at least ask me to stay, not to be with Mary, just to stick by his side; to stay at Baker Street. That would've been enough. Instead, here I am, whining about my insufferable love triangle, and my hopeless devotion to Sherlock. Dear god, change the channel, the soap opera gets worse. When I have sex with Mary now, sometimes I picture Sherlock. I imagine running my hands down his pale chest. kissing every piece of his marble skin, and watching him fall apart under my command. It helps me reach my climax, now. Mary is so excited about the wedding, her parents pat me on the back on how much they look forward to it, and I just have to pretend. I wonder how long I can go for before I break.

What will Sherlock do without me?

I'm scared he won't eat. God knows I have to remind him everyday. Will he still do cases without me? Probably so. He'll most likely get himself killed, I have to feed the sanity into him when we go on our crazy chases. Will he fall back onto drugs? He would talk to me when he would speak the facts on the cases. He never said it, but I knew it helps him out. Will he stay in contact with me? Will he miss me? God, I know I will. Every second of every day. Mary will never know, and I don't want her to. She's a great woman, and I love her, I do, but all I want is for me to not feel like I ripping my heart out by going through with this.

I don't know how I'm going to be able to go through with this wedding, with Sherlock being there the whole time. Especially when he'll be standing next to me.

This is going to hurt. Is it supposed to feel like each of my ribs are being plucked out? Jesus, Sherlock, make this feeling go away. Please.

I'm going to miss you. I'm envious that the bed gets to hold you when you sleep, when my arms could so easily be around your waist. I'm envious that you only get to run your long fingers through your curly hair, when all I want to do it let my fingers get lost in there. I'm envious that the shower water gets to explore all of your body, when my hands have been itching to do that for months. I'm envious that no one gets to watch you sleep, because when you do, it's a beautiful sight to behold. I'm sad that I won't be able to see you anymore. I'm sad, Sherlock. So terribly sad. I know there's no one else like you. I won't even get my hopes up. There's only you. Dammit, it has always been you. Sherlock bloody Holmes. I'm going to miss you until the end of my days.

Haha, look at me. Thinking like he can hear me. How pitiful.


End file.
